


between you and gravity

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [186]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin’s Magic (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Canon Era, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Mild Hurt/Comfort, Protective Merlin (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 20:03:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20197369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: “If you want to kill him,” Merlin said, squaring his shoulders, “you’ll have to kill me first.”





	between you and gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _The Vintner's Luck_ by Elizabeth Knox, aka my favourite novel ever.
> 
> Please do not repost elsewhere or list my fic on Goodreads (or any other similar spaces).

“If you want to kill him,” Merlin said, squaring his shoulders, “you’ll have to kill me first.”

Cold dread washed over Arthur. The three men facing them were big, bulky warriors, and behind them were another five of similar build, all of them wielding swords. Merlin’s entire body was barely as thick as the leader’s neck, he was completely unarmed, and Arthur had never seen him hurt so much as a fly. In fact, Merlin had once been outsmarted by a rat, had cried over a _unicorn,_ and was generally about as terrifying as a fluffy little kitten.

They were going to be dead in seconds.

“_Merlin_,” Arthur said—or rather, croaked. The pain had stolen his breath first, but the fever had made him hoarse, his throat parched. “Don’t be an idiot—get out of here.”

“The prince is right, boy,” the leader of the bandits said, his lips curling into a grin that revealed crooked, yellowing teeth. “We understand a body's got to eat, and it’s not your fault your master is a filthy royal bastard. It’s him we want. Step aside, and no harm will come to you.”

Arthur prayed that Merlin would listen. They had been thrown together by chance, and Merlin owed him no oath of allegiance. He hadn’t even been born in Camelot; Arthur had no claims on his loyalty beyond being his employer, and he had never fully repaid the other man for saving him that first time, all those years ago. If he could do nothing else, he at least wanted to leave this life knowing that Merlin would be safe.

Merlin planted his feet.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said evenly, his voice low. “I won’t warn you again. If you lay down your weapons and leave us alone, I’ll spare your lives.”

The leader laughed, and his men laughed with him. Arthur could hardly blame them. What the hell did Merlin think he was playing at?

“Merlin, for God’s sake—” he choked, but the bandit interrupted him.

“You’ve got spirit, boy, I’ll give you that. But this overbred princeling isn’t worth dying for. Step aside. This is your final warning.”

Merlin’s whole body tensed. He had one hand raised, as though that would stop them, the other curled into a fist by his side, and Arthur struggled to breathe, cursing himself for being so weak, for the fact that his weapon was next to useless beside him. If he couldn’t even lift his sword to protect his own servant, what kind of a prince was he?

“No,” Merlin said finally. Softly. Like he’d made up his mind about this a long time ago. “I won’t leave him.”

Something huge and helpless swept through Arthur’s chest, and he willed himself to sit up, to defend Merlin if it took his last ounce of strength. Without looking around, Merlin said,

“Don’t, Arthur.”

Arthur hesitated.

The bandit leader charged.

If Arthur hadn’t seen what happened with his own two eyes, he would have doubted whichever man had told him the tale. The bandits came at them en masse, shouting and raising their swords, and Arthur fought the urge to turn away, knowing that the last thing he saw before he, too, was cut down would be Merlin’s lifeless body; Merlin’s blood staining the ground. Only—it didn’t quite work out like that.

“_Onfieht,_” Merlin shouted, in a language Arthur didn’t understand but with which he was intimately familiar. The men were blasted backwards off their feet, striking trees and rocks, hitting the ground hard enough that none of them seemed inclined to get back up again. There was a beat of silence, and Arthur stared at Merlin’s rigid back, saw the way his hand trembled slightly as he lowered it.

The silence lengthened. Merlin didn’t turn around, and Arthur couldn’t speak, could only listen to the scrape of his own breathing. His side burned, his battered arm ached, and he realised he was gripping his sword in spite of his injury, though whether to defend Merlin or to defend _against _him he didn't know. For an instant, the yawning question opened up before him: had everything between them been a lie? Was this the moment when Merlin opened his mouth to kill him, too, injured and defenceless as he was?

Then, slowly, Merlin turned towards him. The expression on his face was so terrible that Arthur let out a wordless sound, moving instinctively in his direction.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered, staring at the ground. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

“Come here,” Arthur rasped, and was relieved to find that Merlin obeyed him. He knelt, far enough away that Arthur had to stretch in order to cuff the back of his head, and then at last the startled eyes met his. “Don’t you _ever _scare me like that again, you absolute _idiot_.”

Merlin blinked, then a smile bloomed across his face, simple and radiant. “Are you mad?” he asked, sounding strangely giddy for someone who was in so much trouble.

“Mad? I’m furious. How dare—” he had to pause to cough, and Merlin shifted, looking concerned, but Arthur waved him back. “How _dare _you put yourself in danger like that and disobey a direct order? When we get back to Camelot, I’m sending you to the stocks for a month.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin said meekly, but his eyes were bright. Arthur had an uncomfortable suspicion that he was trying not to cry. “Of course, sire. Would that be before or after I take care of your wounded arse, sire?”

“My _arse_ is not wounded,” Arthur said, but it was a moot point, and Merlin laughed or maybe he started crying, it was hard to be certain. Arthur reached for him again, this time to tug him closer and press their mouths together. Soft and chaste was all he could manage at the moment, and it was painfully brief; but the way Merlin looked at him afterwards made it all worthwhile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments :)


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